


Lohengrin

by Jyllean



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyllean/pseuds/Jyllean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ages ago, a wonderful group of sentinel writers put together a zine, and this was my oh so minor contribution.  They  were all bright, engaging, wonderful writers and incredibly encouraging.  I was honored to be included.  </p><p>I was exclusively a gen writer, and this was my first wade into racier waters.  For all that, it's a harmless piece of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lohengrin

Blair gently pushed the door open, balancing a tower of white takeout boxes as he did. He didn't need sentinel senses to know Jim was already home. The truck was parked in its usual spot. Jim might be in a terrible temper, but he'd be here. Even in a rage, Jim wouldn't go stomping around Cascade, on foot, in the pouring rain.

"Hey, Jim," he said softly. He walked slowly into the room. A decidedly gloomy Jim Ellison sat listlessly on the couch. Blair quickly took inventory with a practiced eye.

Coat on the floor, not on the hook.

No beer.

No ESPN, Jags game or other equally banal diversions.

This wasn't good.

"I brought us some dinner. I hope you're hungry." Jim shrugged and didn't answer. Blair put the boxes on the counter and started to assemble their mean. "I got your favorites. I figured you deserved it."

Jim snorted. "I'm not sure anyone else would agree with you on that."

"Well, I'm not anyone else." Blair frowned. A morose Jim Ellison was not a pretty sight. 

"Can I bring a tray in there? We can just relax and enjoy the food."

"Why not? We could grind it into the cushions and my life wouldn't be any worse."

Blair tried to stifle a low chuckle. "Come on, Jim. I know you're upset, but you're not that upset. A little snit in the bullpen isn't grounds for violating the pristine Ellison furniture."

He set hot water on the stove for tea and brought the tray in. "Here, have a spring roll, and get over yourself. The prosecutor screwed up the case, not us."

Jim grudgingly took a bite of Blair's offering.

"You want to talk about it?" Blair asked, helping himself to some chow mien along with some fried rice.

"No." Jim looked slightly guilty, and added, "Thanks for the food." He held the plate out willingly as his roommate dished more food onto his plate. "Besides, what's to talk about? The Justice system is screwed, Simon threw me out of the bullpen, and I should have killed Connor when I had the chance."

Blair didn't answer. It wasn't his plan to argue with his partner. He smiled knowingly as Jim started to work his way through the full plate. He ate his own meal, content to watch and wait. Conversation could stay on hold for a bit. A cranky sentinel improved with a full stomach. The stress lines around Jim's eyes gradually smoothed. No doubt the hunger headache was slowly fading. Jim had a metabolism that didn't tolerate starvation well. When Jim sat with an empty plate, looking for all the world like a kid out of Dicken's, ready to beg for more dinner, Blair knew he had waited long enough.

"Simon was right to send you home, you know," he said, scooping more sweet and sour shrimp onto Jim's plate.

I - he - the damn judge," Jim sputtered ineffectually.

Blair couldn't help but be amused as Jim's anger percolated back to the surface. "Don't get yourself all wound up again," Blair said gently. "Eat. Hear me out. Everyone understood. If you give yourself a chance to think about it, everyone was being very sympathetic." Blair refilled their cups with more tea. "Even Megan was just trying to jolly you out of your mood, Connor-style."

"Connor should be hung from her toes."

"Jim, he said reproachfully."

"She said we were married," Jim exploded.

Blair rubbed his own forehead. Volcano Ellison was right on time. "Jimmmm. Don't be ridiculous. 'You're so married' is a figure of speech. She was teasing. Megan teases you about everything. Your hair. Your age. She was teasing me, too. There was no reason to go ballistic." Jim looked at his plate and mumbled something Blair couldn't quite decipher. He suddenly realized that Jim wasn't just ticked off and blowing off steam. "Jim, it was a joke."

"Well, maybe I'm not laughing. I should have pitched her out the window, right along with that damn pink dingo coat. That rag probably violates the Endangered Species act or something. I'm sure of it," Jim said bitterly.

"You're serious," Blair said, his tone incredulous. "I canít believe this. You're serious." Blair set his plate down on his knees. "Jim, I donít know what to say. She didn't mean - oh, my God."

The two men stared at each other.

"You must want me to move out," Blair said, his eyes reflecting how painful he found that thought. "I - when did this become a problem?"

"I didn't say that," Jim said defensively. Blair watched him jump to his feet and pace back and forth. "I don't want you to move." He waved his hands in the air as his garbled thoughts spilled out. "That damn Connor. What am I supposed to think? How could I not see this?

"Jim, you're not making any sense," Blair said, starting to panic. "Tell me."

"To borrow the academic lingo, I had an epiphany, professor. A damn paradigm shift. In Biblical terms, the scales fell from my eyes." Jim finally stood still. "Don't you get it? Connor is right. We're a damn married couple."

Blair shook his head. "So? Are you mad at her? Mad at me?"

"No," bellowed Jim. He threw his hands in the air again. "I'm mad that I didn't notice! How could I not notice?"

"Jim, I am totally confused."

"When was the last time you had a date?" Jim demanded. He stood with his hands on his hips, in full interrogation mode.

"What? Jim, we work all the time. What does that have to do?"

"Bull. When I met you, you were teaching, studying, going to class, running around with me and you always had dates. You double-booked dates. The little black book overflowed. Time was never an issue." Blair didn't answer. He couldn't think of anything to say, and Jim obviously wasn't done. "When was the last time I had a date?"

"I don't know," Blair stammered.

"See? How could we not notice that?" Jim was pacing again. "You bring me Chinese. I change the oil in that heap you drive. We grocery shop together. We eat together. We live in the same house. We take turns with the laundry."

"Jim, we're roommates."

"Chief, I've had roommates. I've had a brother, I've had army buddies. I even had a wife and a dee-vorce."

"So?" Blair craned his neck as Jim marched over and came to a stop right in front of him. The next question set him back on his heels. 

"Did you ever want to get married?"

Blair sputtered for an answer. "No. I'm Naomi's child, remember? Whoa, where did that come from?"

Jim was undeterred. "Did you ever move in with a girlfriend?" Blair couldn't stop the smirk. "Not stay over, Romeo, move in. Put your socks in the dresser. Change your mailing address. Have a place in the medicine cabinet."

"No."

"See? You're not the responsible party. You'd be expected to be totally clueless." Jim angrily thumped his chest. "I'm the one who should have known. What kind of an idiot is married and doesn't know it? I'm supposed to be a detective. I had a pitiful relationship with Carolyn, but at least I remembered the ceremony. I knew I was in wedded bliss." Jim finally seemed to run out of steam.

"So you had this sudden revelation?" Blair asked. "This is why you chased Connor into the Ladies?"

"Of course. Don't tell me you don't get it, Chief."

"Well, it's a scary thought, but I think so." Blair looked at Jim quizzically. "You're not mad at Connor because she said we were married, you're mad because we are married. Or aren't. Or didn't notice?"

"You're supposed to be the smart one, Sandburg."

Blair couldn't help it. Jim was deadly serious, but he just couldn't stop. He started to giggle. "Then I want a diamond." The look on Jim's face was priceless. Blair started to laugh out loud. "A couple of carats ought to do it. Do you want to go for rings, or would tasteful matching ear studs be more macho cop-like?"

"This is serious!" Jim roared.

Blair was laughing uncontrollably. "I want china." He crawled toward the end of the couch. Jim was going to kill him. He could hardly get the words out. "I want a cool cedar chest, too. And a wedding shower."

"Sandburg! You're laughing at me!"

Blair dove behind the couch, laughing hysterically. "Megan can host the shower. We can play games. I get to unwrap all the gifts."

Jim was livid. He hurled a pillow at his retreating roommate. "She's going to be dead. We'll bury her right beside you." Blair kept crawling away, laughing, with Jim in hot pursuit.

Blair weakly batted the next airborne pillow aside. He could only manage words in short bursts. "We should get new towels. All newlyweds get new towels."

Jim's whole body started to quiver. He towered over Blair's prone body, his fists clenched. 

Blair had disintegrated into breathless cackling. He rolled to his side, not quite able to make it to his hands and knees. "We need to register. What kind of pans do you want?" He dissolved into belly-shaking laughter one more time.

Jim's lip twitched. Blair had tears running down his cheeks. He was humming a horrible rendition of "Here Comes the Bride".

Jim dropped to his knees, whapping his friend mercilessly with the nearest pillow. He was laughing, too. Finally, he tucked the pillow under his arm and rested back on his heels to wait. 

Every time Blair looked at him, he dissolved into another bout of helpless laughter. After a couple of tries, he started to catch his breath. Finally he lay there exhausted, breathing hard, and groaned, "Oooh. My side hurts."

Jim smiled and wiped the trail of moisture off his friend's face. "Serves you right. I do, by the way."

"You do what?" Blair asked flippantly. "Feel sorry for me? Want new pans?"

"I do - take you as my husband."

The End

Author's Note: Congratulations to those who knew that the traditional "Here Comes the Bride" wedding march came originally from the opera Lohengrin, by Richard Wagner. I had to look it up.


End file.
